


The Things We Do

by Tyke (TwiceAsFrustrating)



Series: Vitae That Binds [3]
Category: Changeling: the Dreaming, Demon: The Fallen, Vampire: The Masquerade, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Demon Deals, Demons, Dubious Morality, Earthbound - Freeform, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Homophobic Language, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Original Character(s), Self-Hatred, Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, Vampires, demon worship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-03 03:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwiceAsFrustrating/pseuds/Tyke
Summary: Prue Yamamoto died in the 1940s, but her seething anger and rage wasn't ready to. By quirk, fate, or pity she managed to continue kicking around as an undead monster of the night. She was utterly lost and alone until a man came to her and promised to give her anger purpose. She took his hand and began to act in his service with unwavering loyalty. He was the only person she could count on and trust, until fate thrust another group of people into her life.At first, she planned to get close and use them as per her Master's orders, but she slowly found herself growing closer than she intended to; she could almost say she didn't hate them. Life wasn't ready for her to grow out of her hatred though, as her Master took a brutal injury that would change her life once more.Now, all she can think about is how to save him, serve him, and make sure he takes his rightful place as god of the world.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> We recently wrapped up our cross-over hell game in my WoD group, and I am not ready to leave all these characters behind. As such, I have decided to continue their story a few years down the line and hope that no one in my group finds it. This is all stuff I think could possibly happen given who the character's are, and a splash of my over active imagination. Only Prue is mine. The others are either made up to flesh out the story or were played by someone else (please let them never find this).  
> Thank you for tolerating my insanity.

Prue walked down the dark, cluttered streets of Sacramento. The place she was heading was her sanctuary, her hovel, and her obligatory modernity. It was a pain in her ass and she cursed its existence every night she had to wake up. She missed the nights were she didn’t have to wake up and deal with it. Still, she supposed it served its purpose.  
As she walked the dimly lit streets, she glanced at everyone around her. Some of them were watching her; homeless mortals that were questioning her sanity in being out of her own free will, especially since she was dressed just nice enough to make people think she had money. Little did they know that she had already had her run in with thugs tonight. It hadn’t ended well for them (in fact, most of them were now so deprived of blood that they would find themselves dead by morning).  
Logic dictates that she should have driven over in her car, but she wasn’t really in the mood to deal with trying to start up that old engine tonight. She really needed a new one, but she just barely made enough to afford her pathetic lifestyle as it was. Most of her resources went to managing her enterprises.  
Tonight was warm and there was a gentle breeze blowing through the air; the perfect night for degenerates to come out and play. She counted on nights like this, especially in the last few years. She needed nights like this to keep her business open. It was a business she hated running, and one she hated having to operate, but it was one she would keep open nonetheless.


	2. Everyday Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prue goes to work, as much as she dislikes it. Being the boss is a pain in her ass, but at least it gives her a great oppertunity to find specific kinds of people.

Prue approached the back entrance of the nightclub Cinders and scanned her card to let her inside. It was already up and running by the time she walked in. All for the better. She had no idea how to run a club and the last few years hadn’t fixed that shortcoming. She just came in to observe what was happening and to make sure the night ran without incident.

  
Her office was located in the basement, a flight down from where she entered. It was dark and dingy, just barely a functional room. She liked it that way. She wasn’t used to having a room filled with niceties or even being very clean. She had been just barely tettering over the poverty line since she died and found most modern things to be nice and shiny to look at, but useless overall.

  
Her office door unlocked with the same keycard (her’s was programed to open every locked door in the club) and she stepped inside. She turned on the light overhead. It was spartan; only a desk with a desktop computer and wireless radio, one chair on either side, and a ratty futon she occasionally slept on when she stayed too early into the morning and probably wouldn’t beat the sun home. There was also a potted plant in the corner to liven up the place, but it was fake and she hadn’t been the one to buy it. She usually forgot about it until someone commented on how realistic it looked.

  
It didn’t matter. This place was hers and she was making the best of it.

  
She stepped away from the door, letting it close behind her, and went over to her desk. The first thing she did was turn on the radio and inform every employee that she had arrived and ask about the night’s activity so far. No one had anything to say, so she told them to continue working and report if anything came up.

  
With that report, she booted up the desktop and waited for it to warm up. She had to learn how to use this thing in order to keep track of finances, which was something she begrudgingly did. It had taken her quite a bit to figure out how to work it, considering she hadn’t used one before in her life, but she was now an expert at using excel. Funny how a few years and a little desperation can change someone. One could almost mistake that she cared about this place; and in a sense, she did.  
It was almost an hour later that she heard someone message her on the radio.

  
“Boss, we have high roller,” it was a deep gravelly male voice. It was the bouncer, based on the code he just used.

 

Her interest was piqued as she grabbed the radio to message him back, “Describe.”

  
“Woman, dye-job blonde, red cocktail, blue plastic bunny necklace, ruby slippers.”

  
The part about the bunny necklace caught her off guard, otherwise it sounded exactly like their average patron. Still, if the woman was a high roller, she would have to check them out. It wasn’t often people like that came through.

  
She clipped the radio to the back of her pants and began making her way to entrance level. Before she left, she told the bouncer (Harris McConnell, not that Prue could be bothered to remember) to keep an eye on the woman. A high roller had value in ways that Harris McConnell couldn’t begin to fathom. Even Prue could only understand it conceptually, but she at least understood it.

  
She found her way upstairs and went straight to Harris McConnell. He was an unamusing man by Prue’s standards. She just barely tolerated him on a great night, and on a bad night she tried to avoid him at all costs. He did the same, but for other reasons beside animosity. Point is, he thought he was hot shit and it made Prue sick to her stomach.  
She walked up to him. Both of them sized up the other. Harris McConnell was already a blocky man by nature, but his bald head and muscles only appeared to add to his mass. Even less helpful was the fact that she could see what was hidden inside of him. If Harris McConnell was a blocky man, then the thing living inside of him was even more so.  
He had two large horns coming from his dark blue head and teeth that were so long his mouth didn’t close properly. He also stood at least another foot taller than what most people would be able to perceive. Prue only saw it due to the ribbon she wore around in a place she’d rather not mention (she had to keep it safe somehow if she got in a fight), which had been enchanted by a once ally. Well, more like the tool of an ally. Because of it, she was able to see the beings that called themselves Changelings as they really were. And Harriss McConnell was an ugly brute of a man.

  
They exchanged no words. He only pointed toward a girl on the dance floor and went back to monitoring the entrance. Before turning around to confront the high roller, Prue couldn’t help but stare at Harris McConnell’s eyes. She wondered what exactly it was they saw and if he understood how precious that gift of his really was. He probably didn’t. What he made up for in pure strength and intimidation, he lacked in brains and creativity.

  
Still, he was useful for some things. This just happened to be one of those things.

  
Prue spied the blonde dye-job from the entrance. It wasn’t done very well; definitely not professionally. The cocktail dress was about a size too big on the woman, and her shoes were tacky and sparkling. Everything about her screamed that she was in the wrong place, but was trying to fit in. That probably meant she came with someone that dragged her along. When really got her though, was the bunny necklace. It was something akin to what a child would get from a vending machine for fifty cents.  
Honestly, the woman was easy to read. She was naive. Probably just turned twenty-one recently, if not tonight. If Prue approached her too forcefully, she would shut down. If she was too meek, the girl would miss her subtle implications. Her only choice was to use cunning and lure the girl away from this scene.

  
Prue made her way across the room, over to where the bartender (Sidney Carpenson) was mixing drinks. She whispered something in his ear, which garnered a slightly surprised reaction. She could tell he was thinking about questioning her words, but decided against it as she glared him down. He wasn’t dumb enough to try and question what she said or did (unlike Harris McConnell, he was a normal human and he knew that she could beat him in a fair fight, nevermind an unfair one). Plus, she signed his paychecks and nothing got a person to shut up faster than threatening their livelihood.

  
He looked anything but happy as she stepped away to allow him to follow her orders. Unlike Prue or even Harris McConnell, Sidney was a good person at heart. He hated hurting people and wanted to do right by everybody. That’s why he was so apprehensive to drop a ruffy in some random woman’s drink. That being said, he would still do it. He had more to lose by disobeying an order than just the moral high ground. One she was certain her understood the pla, Prue stepped away and her way back down to her office.  
There was a lot to prepare when you were trying to convince someone that miracles were real and that you could somehow perform them. Well, not you, but someone you knew. Someone who would be very happy to know about this high roller.


	3. Know Your Target

When Harris McConnell first joined Cinders as its bouncer, Prue had asked him what a high roller (a term he used due to his love of gambling) looked like. He mentioned not being able to really describe it fully, but settled with saying that it was like high rollers were filled with a brilliant light and would blind a sinner. Prue had wanted to roll her eyes at his religious allegory, but that was exactly the reason he had been hired. He was not quite a high roller, but he came very close.

Now she wondered if that light was faded as the woman leaned her weight against Prue’s shoulder. They had slipped her the ruffy and waited for her to lose control. As soon as she had, Prue was there to offer to take her away so the perpetrator couldn’t do anything to her. Her plan was blossoming like a belladonna right in front of her eyes. The only downside was that the woman’s friend insisted on staying with her. Prue couldn’t outright reject without sounding suspicious, so she acquessed. She had a plan to get the friend away, but not immediately. Let her think she was there to help her friend and the woman would be around just a bit longer so Prue could sink in her talons.

“Thanks again,” the friend chimed in with an annoyingly high-pitched voice.

Prue had to stop herself from turning the woman’s brain into mush just to shut her up. That was the sixth time she had thanked her and it was getting on her nerves. She only tolerated it because she needed this high roller. Otherwise, the woman would be long dead.

“No problem,” for now Prue would play along, “I’d hate to leave her alone right now. It’s better to get her away so we can watch her. You sure she didn’t drink anything?”

“No. It was just some soda.”

“Mhm…” She pretended to be in thought, “I may have you answer some questions so we can check the cameras later at see if anything suspicious shows up. We may be able to figure out what happened and who did it.”

The friend’s face lit up just a little, “Really?”

Prue pretended to chew on the idea before responding, “I can't make any promises, but I can try. I want to catch the person as much as you, partially because I hate to think this still happens to women, partially because I hate to think it happened in my place, and partially because, to be honest, if this gets out it’s bad for business.”

The friend seemed taken aback by Prue’s ‘honesty’. It was a calculated risk on her part, but this woman already had doubts about the motivations of business owners. She hoped revealing her hand a little, but making it a lesser priority would endear the friend and help lower her guard for later. 

“Thanks. Really.” Prue could feel that her plan had worked as the woman responded.

  
She had a feeling it would. As soon as the friend had shown up to assist the high roller, Prue had engaged her in a rather brief, but insightful conversation. She knew more about the woman in five minutes of conversation than probably even her parents did after knowing her for her entire life. Not worthless things like her job, or interests, or coffee buying habits, but profound things like her very morality and how she viewed the world. 

The friend was mildly interesting. Her core was near rotten, her action deplorable by conventional standards, but she felt no guilt in her heart. Prue could see the worst crime she’d ever committed by her own admission (some instance in which she accidently let her dog steal some pot brownies from the counter and he freaked out the entire night -- an event which scared her and filled her with guilt every time he stared at her taking something out of the oven); she could see the friend’s deepest feelings toward politics (apparently she was some hippie college kid that thought capitalism was the route of all evil, even though she was currently in a building made possible only by the grace of capitalism allow it to stand -- a fact Prue wanted to mention, since the girl seemed to like it here until the ruffy incident); most notably, Prue could see an incident from the friend’s past that continued to this day. It was the kind of incident Prue could use as leverage later, much to her delight.

When the two of them finally reached Prue’s office, they set the high roller down on the futon. She could see the slight disgust on the friend’s face at having to put the high roller on such a ratty surface. Still, it was a reliable bed and the only slightly comfortable surface.

As the friend stayed crouched next to the high roller and stroked her hair out of her face, Prue pulled back with mild annoyance. This was more work than she usually put in as it was, but now something was burning deep inside of her. She knew it was only a matter of time until her instincts began to take over, and she was having a hard time keeping them at bay. She needed to move things along and fast.

She looked toward her desk, just at the bottom on one of the legs. She mentally kicked herself as she debated her priorities. She couldn’t take it much longer and would have to shift her timeline a little. The high roller would be out for a few more minutes, which would give her time to lead the friend away.

“Would you like to help me look at the security footage? Maybe you’ll notice something.” Prue finally spoke, getting the friend’s attention.

She nodded after a moment of thought, “Thanks.”

Prue let a genuine smile cross her face, “No problem.” It was so easy to lure people to their own demise if you knew how. They were always so eager to throw themselves at the feet of their betters.

Prue took her by the hand to help her to her feet and led her out of the office. She walked a few steps ahead, straight toward a room marked ‘security’. It wasn’t the real security room, which was further down and unmarked. Still, it fooled the average person.

Prue held up her card and listened as the door clicked open. She put her hand on the door handle and motioned for the friend to join her as she stepped inside. As soon as the friend complied, her fate was sealed. How unfortunate for her.


	4. A Good Tool is Sharp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prue owns the nightclub Cinders, but she is not the real boss. No. The boss is something more profound, more holy, more powerful. What Prue is, is his tool.

Prue would have about thirty minutes to set everything up and convince the high roller. If that failed, she’d just have one more body to dispose of. The high roller was still unconscious in her office, barely having moved since she stepped out. That wouldn’t be true for much longer, so she had to move fast.

She walked over to her desk and slid the heavy object to the side. She bent down and started knocking on floorboards until one sounded slightly hollow. Not noticeable to the average human, but she wasn’t average and she wasn’t human. She lifted the single floorboard, only to find a second one underneath. This one had a small keyhole at one end, unable to be lifted unless it was unlocked, and hinges to keep it in place as it was lifted up like a trapdoor. She got up and opened her desk drawer, where the key was hidden. After unlocking and lifting the second floorboard by its hinges, there was a metal box.

She smiled gently at the small metal box as she pulled it out. It was the kind people kept tools in for storage, but there was something even more valuable and precious inside this one. It had one last lock on it, but Prue kept the key for this one on her at all times; it dangled from her neck, just under her clothing. She pulled it out and inserted into the lock. She turned in gently and opened the metal box.

Inside was the most precious thing in the world to her. It was wrapped in a white cloth to keep it from rubbing against the metal sides and keep it from getting covered in dust. She set the box and its contents to the side as she closed her false floor and slid the desk back into place. No one else had to know where she kept it. They only needed to see it for themselves.

Once everything was back to normal, she took the item from out of the metal toolbox and set it on her desk. As she unwrapped the cloth from around it, she revealed a golden goblet. It was stunning, beautiful to behold. At was an old goblet, dating back to at least the 1700s, and it had once been housed inside a holy church. 

It was a long story, but Prue had stolen it at the orders of her master. At the time, it was home to some weakling that couldn’t even kill her. They had done too little damage too slowly, allowing her to heal herself until her master could pick up his item. That night was one that would live with her forever, for it was the night she learned her master’s real name.

For decades, he had given her a false name. She was not sure for what purpose, but she did not question it. In fact, she had asked that he reward her that night by wiping her memories of her encounter with the goblet’s then-resident so that she could forget his name. She had no use for it if he did not want her to know it and even less use if it would pose a threat to his plans. Still, he let her keep the memories. She had wondered if that meant he trusted her. Though, it probably meant erasing her memories was too burdensome for the effort, or her knowing his name was no threat to his plans after all. 

Now, however, the goblet was home to something more powerful. It was knowledgeable and intense; primal and terrifying; devine and horrific. She was probably the only person that could truly appreciate what this goblet held, because she had seen him before his imprisonment. She had known him for decades and she devoted her entire being to him and seeing him become as a king to the whole of humanity.

As the goblet became illuminated by the fluorescents overhead, Prue muttered the name of her master to wake him up. Being awake was becoming more and more difficult for him as time went on. He needed more follows and people to give him their Faith if he was to stay awake for long periods of time. Moreover, sleeping allowed him so minor escape from the experience of being trapped in this contemptible form.She could feel his presence as he began to wake up. It was domineering and all-encompassing an d so very familiar to her.

“Speak,” it didn’t take long for him to wake up, and took even less time for him to begin giving orders.

“I have someone that may interest you. Harris McConnell said that she was exceptional.” She didn’t bother with the code used between the employees, since her master could sense exactly what she meant.

He paused for a moment, “Is that all?” The was about the reaction she expected, “After so long, you come with only one? And you have yet to convince her yourself.”

That comment stung a little, “I figured this one may be worth showing yourself to rather than having me convince her.” It was hard for Prue to convert people to his way without outright killing them. She could do a lot if she were allowed to peel into their skin and minds,but this girl was different. She was a high roller, not some small fish like Prue was used to dealing with. Her Faith was more intense and would serve her master better in the long run. Converting her into a genuine follower was going to be more beneficial, but she couldn’t do that without showing off her master’s power, “She may be worth the effort to keep. If not, I can just slit her throat once she believes in you.”

Another pause. Perhaps he was thinking, “This had better be worth my while.”

 

* * *

 

The girl’s name was Selena and she went to church every Sunday and helped with the youth group. On Wednesdays she volunteered at the local soup kitchen. Every other day of the week, she was usually busy with her college classes.

She wasn’t the type to go clubbing or drink, but her friend -- Eliza, the same person who had convinced her to let her dye her hair blonde, despite loving her natural black curls -- had convinced her to celebrate her finally finishing her senior requirements. She was a journalism major, hoping to someday break into the field of investigative journalism. It had been a grueling few years, but she was almost done with it.

She had never really gone to a party before, not one like this at least. She had to borrow a dress from Eliza and wear what heels she could find in her closest, which were her costume slippers from when she went as Dorothy last Halloween. Sh expected to have a little fun, come home with a headache from the loud music, and go home to never have the experience again. 

What she never expected when she left that night was for the bartender to tell her someone wanted to buy her a drink. He had such large eyes, like a kid almost. Selena had wondered if he was really old enough to be working a bar (he wasn’t, but you could overlook any number of issues when you owned the place and paid him in cash). He had seemed so genuine and cute that Selena had a hard time telling him she didn’t want it. She played it safe and ordered a soda. He seemed confused but gave it to her. 

She wasn’t an idiot. She knew not to leave her drink alone, and she was careful not to. She finished it quickly, never setting it down to allow someone to tamper with it. Still, even though she had been cautious, she could feel it as her legs started to give out from under her. She remembered falling against the bar counter for support and hearing the bartender say something into his radio, but not exactly what he had said. Everything after that was a complete blur.

Her eyes fluttered open slowly as the drug started to wear off. When she saw the ceiling of an unfamiliar room above her, she panicked. Please, God, no. She couldn’t have been-- She jolted up and started to check and make sure all her clothing was on. It was. She checked for bruises or signs that someone had treated her roughly. There were none.

She was confused until a woman’s voice spoke up from next to her, “Please do not flatter yourself. My sex drive died when I did, and you are certainly not going to be the person that changes that.”

Selena looked over to the voice, only to a see a petite Asian woman with short black hair and wearing a casual business suit sitting in an office chair next to a desk with a golden chalice on it. She kept one hand close to the chalice, almost as though she were keeping herself between it and Selena for some reason.

“Unless I misjudged you and you actually wanted that? I guess I could call the boys upstairs and see if they wanna have fun with you.” A disturbing smile crept across her face as Selena made eye contact with her, eyes wide in horror, “Now that would be interesting…”

Selena shuttered. Who was this woman and why was she talking so casually about something like that? However, even though she was disgusted and nervous, Selena felt no desire to leave. In fact, she was drawn to the woman in a way she could not begin to describe.

The woman got up from her chair and leaned over Selena, “Would you like that?”

She knew she should be afraid, but there was no fear. All she felt was the desire to hear this woman speak. In fact, somewhere deep inside of her,she could almost feel herself agreeing with the woman. Maybe she should… NO! What a horrible thought. She looked down in shame, away from the woman and toward the worn out mattress she just now noticed she was on. That did not help to calm her nerves.

“I see. Weak-willed. That’s useful to know.” The woman sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, “Weak-willed, but strong Faith… Interesting. You really are the jackpot.” She looked toward the chalice, “Don’t you think?”

 

* * *

 

This woman was so interesting. She was a golden goose and she didn’t even know it. It made her wonder if she had been filled with such Faith when she was alive. Probably not. When she was alive, she had been a Shinto-Buddhist like her parents, not a Christian. She couldn’t have even concieved of God, angels, or demons. How greatness was wasted on the unworthy.

“You’re wasting time.” Prue’s master barked at her.

She was sure the woman couldn’t hear her master, given he was speaking in her head. Still, she was slightly disappointed. He wanted results, whereas Prue enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. Still, he was the boss.

She turned her attention back to the woman, “What’s your name? Your friend told me, but I forgot already.”

The woman sat on the futon, mouth moving slightly as she mumbled, “Selena…”

“Selena, huh?” She saw a chill run down the woman’s spine as Prue said her name. She really was weak-willed if her presence was affecting her this much. That was a blessing and a curse. Made her easy to convert, but difficult to hold on to. 

“Well, Selena,” She was sure to say the woman’s name again, hoping to get the same reaction, “I have good news for you.” She waited for the woman to look up at her, eyes full of curiosity and wonder, “I’ve been sent by my master to right the wrongs done to you by the one you trust most.”

Selena’s eyes filled with confusion. That was an emotion she could work with.

“My master as seen how you have been wronged and weeps for you. The woman Eliza has betrayed you--”

“Eliza?” Selena finally caught up to speed and was more aware of what was happening now, “Where is she?” Only now was she starting to remember that her friend should be with her and she vaguely recalled her helping carry her while she was in her stuper. 

For a split second, Selena noticed the woman’s face flash with rage before it calmed down. What she didn’t know was that Prue had just had a brief contest with her Beast for control. Prue won, if only by the skin of her fangs.

“She’s somewhere else. Dear Selena,” again, she got the reaction she wanted, “I am here to give you divine retribution for being wronged.”

“What do you…” Selena started up, but was cut off again.

“Do you truely not know? Poor Selena. So trusting. Too trusting.” Prue twisted her face into one of sadness.

_ “Hurry up, this is taking too long.” _ Her master spoke up once more. It seems he was growing hungry for her. Prue wondered if Selena’s Faith was calling out to him as she put on this act.

“My master has told me that one of his precious flock as been hurt, and she does not even know it. I have been sent to correct that wrong.” Prue bent to her level and made eye contact with her, “My master weeps for you.” It was all a lie, but a lie she would buy as long as Prue gave it some magnitude of religiosity. That wasn’t hard, given who her master was. 

“What do you…”

“Your boyfriend broke up with you not that long ago. He told you it was because you two just weren’t clicking anymore.” Selena’s eyes widened as Prue recounted her private memory, one she had shared only with Eliza is the past, “But that was a lie. He wronged you, along with the one you call Eliza. She bed him, knowing it would hurt you and your pure spirit.”

Again, confusion and disbelief, “Eliza would never…

This was where her master would need to come in.

“She would.”

Selena’s eyes darted around the room as she looked for the disembodied voice of the man who had just spoken, “Who was…”

“My master is a guardian angel of humans. As I said, he has seen how you were wronged and weeps. He has sent me, his sword of vengeance, to correct your wrongs.”

“Is this a trick?” Her question was one of a skeptic, but Prue could see her eyes filling with belief. Her master’s disembodied voice, Prue’s powers, and the girl’s natural faith were all working against her.

“It is not,” her master’s voice boomed throughout the room, “I have seen your woes and am sickened by the transgressions against you. I wish only to see the wrongs righted.”

Little by little, Prue watched as Selena bought into their lie, becoming convinced that her own personal angel had seen her and wanted to protect her. Before they knew it, Selena’s Faith was flowing straight to her master, making him stronger and stronger. 

They gave her the name Theoge to worship, the same false name that Prue had called her master for decades. It would still bind her to him, but it was a safe name to pass out to others. His real name was too well known to fool anyone.

Their charade finally came to an end after 47 minutes. Prue cursed herself for taking so long and hoped everything would still be fine for her next step. Selena was thoroughly convinced to their side.

She helped Selena up and guided her to the door and up the stairs. Just before the girl left, she turned to Prue with an inquisitive look, “You won’t really hurt Eliza, will you? I mean, not too much. She’s still my friend…”

“Her punishment shall be of her own making,” was Prue’s reply, “her guilt shall determine how she suffers. If she feels great guilt, she shall face little of my own wrath, as she has punished herself enough. If she feels no guilt, then her punishment will make heaven and hell weep.”

Selena was still in no mindset to question Prue, so she nodded and went on her way.

Poor naive Selena. What she didn’t know, and what Prue did, was that there was no guilt in Eliza’s heart for her actions. Prue hadn’t lied, just twisted the truth. Eliza felt no guilt, and Prue wanted to watch her writhe in agony. Not cause and effect, but still correlation. 

With her face expressionless, she went back downstairs to put away her master (who reprimanded her for daring to call him an Asharu before going back to sleep). She cleaned up her office and hid her keys once more.


	5. Sword of Vengeance

It had taken Prue much longer than she originally thought to wrap up with the high roller Selena. By now, her prey is getting restless and has come out of her own stupor. Of course she had to take care of Selena first and bring her under her master, but she did want to enjoy her own freetime every now and again. Plus, by the time she was done, her master would have one more source of Faith. Granted, it would be short lived, but Faith was Faith.

Prue went to the room marked ‘security’ and opened the door with her card. As soon as it clicked open, the was a muffled scream from just beyond the door. The sound filled Prue with ecstacy. There was nothing better than the sound of someone struggling when confronted with a situation they couldn’t control and had no hope of escaping. If there was any part of her that could still get sexual gratification, this would do it for her. It was that powerful.

She opened the door with a wry smile on her face, a genuine expression between all her fake ones. Eliza was good as blind and mute at the moment, forced to wear a blindfold and gagged to keep her from screaming too loud. Not that it mattered. The room was soundproof once the door was closed. She just wanted to give the poor girl the illusion that she needed to be silenced to keep her hidden. It would make it that much sweeter when she truly realized there was no escape and anyone that could save her knew exactly where she was and none of them would save her.

The door closed behind her and Prue turned on the light overhead. It was dim, just bright enough for her to see and to strike blinding fear into her victims. There was no word in the English language to describe this situation and the bliss it brought her. She had worked for years to make this room into her chapel, and it had seen each moment of her madness.

Poor Eliza. If only she hadn’t made so many mistakes. If she hadn’t come to her friend’s aid, if she hadn’t bothered to speak to Prue, if she hadn’t been so gullible, she would not be here right now. She would not be about to face the very worst torture in her entire life. She would be able to drink, dance like a duck with two broken legs, and go home with a man she’d regret in the morning. But Eliza did make those mistakes, and she would regret them much sooner than in the morning.

Like in exactly a hundred milliseconds, which is the time it would take her brain to register that Prue had just plunged a knife straight through the side of her ankle as she was forced to lay on the cold cement floor. The scream that came from Eliza was so loud that leaked through the gag. It was a good way to start.

Prue yanked the knife out of her ankle and watched the blood pool on the floor around both of them. It wasn’t too bad, though she definitely nicked an artery or vein. Prue wasn’t the best at knowing what she was cutting, she just cut and hoped for the best. But this was a mistake.

Prue leaned over the girl’s leg, listening to her meloditic and terrible screams as one would listen to classical music. She grabbed the girl’s leg above and below the wound, stiffening her muscles when the girl tried to use her already injured leg to kick her in a feeble attempt at self-defense. Just to pay her back for the gesture, Prue gripped on the leg, digging her right thumb into the wound. She pulled it out with a sickening squish, and licked the blood off her thumb. The girl was barely buzzed. That was good. Prue didn’t like being drunk during this holy ritual. 

When Eliza stopped struggling and instead thrashed from the agony, Prue stuck her tongue directly into the wound. Each twitch the girl made in agony was a beautiful dance to Prue. She ran the edge of it against what must have been the cut artery or vein, and lapped at the flowing tube. She slowly licked her way out and around the hole she had made and watched it heal almost instantly. She couldn’t have Eliza dying. The holy ritual had to be completed, and that could only be done in life.

As the wound closed up, Prue violently hit it to see how much pain it still registered. Based on Eliza’s reaction, it was moderate, but not profound; like a flesh bruise, tender. That was mildly disappointing, but she did what she needed.

Prue used her now bloodied knife and placed it against Eliza’s cheek. The girl froze instantly, afraid to cut herself. The knife was warm and wet as she dragged it against her victim’s face, dragging it quickly to slice off the blindfold. She also caused a razor thin mark on the girl’s face, which she let bleed freely. She wouldn’t die of blood loss from such a small wound.

As soon as her vision was free, the girl’s eyes widened in horror. It was a look she had seen other times in the past, usually by those who realized just how utterly trapped they were. That fear also breed hope though. Hope of freedom. Prue could see as the girl’s eyes lit up with plans about how to free herself, escape, and call the police. Prue would just have to stroke that hope a little.

“Don’t give me that look. You’re the one that decided to trust me so readily. Surely your mother taught you better.” Probably not. She was the spoiled type that thought life would hand her anything she could possibly want. It was obvious she was the product of her generation and the previous generation’s poor parenting skills.

“Doesn’t matter.” She waved off her previous words, “I have a question for you. If you had choose between losing your face or losing your hand, which would you pick?”

Eliza pulled away from her as soon as Prue held the knife in front of her, showing her exactly what her intention was. She curled into a small ball, hiding her face in her lap and exposing her arms, wrist red and sore from rubbing against the ropes that bound her.

Prue knew the girl was trying to hide, as futile as the attempt was. But she took it as an answer, “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

Prue bent over the girl and cut the gag from her mouth, an action which was immediately rewarded with Eliza’s pleas of desperation, “Somebody, please, help me. This bitch is crazy.”

Prue sighed and stomped on Eliza’s exposed side, heel first. Her black high heels bit into the girl’s side, but did not break the skin through her clothing. Even so, it drew a scream, “That was stupid of you. I did something nice and that’s how you repay me? I thought even you would have some manners. Guess I really can’t read people as well as I thought.” The comment was obviously a mockery. The girl was doing exactly what she expected.

She shrugged and bent down, knife in one hand and grabbing Eliza’s thumb with the other, “A good, quick, straight cut with sharp knife. That’s how you inflict the least pain when making a cut. I tested it out a few times over the years. I don’t think you can hold still that long though…”

Prue gave one violent thrust into Eliza’s thumb to prove her point. More screaming, and gushing blood as the blade was pulled lose.

“See? You can’t stay quiet for very long.” She lifted the blade and thrusted it in again and again, listening to the never ending melody of screams and anguish coming deep from Eliza’s throat as she hacked the girl’s thumb off.

She licked the wound clean as soon as the thumb was lying on the ground, independent from its owner. As the girl came down from what must be her phantom pain, Prue picked the thumb off the ground and gave it a good lick. The blood still flowing from it was delicious, filling up her missing supply from dealing with Selena earlier.

Small little pants and disjointed words were tumbling out of Eliza’s mouth. She was clearly mildly delirious from the blood loss of the evening, her pain, and the adrenaline that was, no doubt, kicking in.

Even so, Prue made out a few select words, “Please, God…”

As soon as Prue heard it, she snapped her full attention back to Eliza. She didn’t have the gag anymore; it had been cut. She would have to make due with what she had on hand.

Prue hovered over the girl and jammed her fingers into the girl’s mouth, prying it open before shoving her own severed thumb in and focing it back shut. She held the girl’s mouth like that and tears poured down her cheeks.

“If you don’t want to choke on your own disgusting thumb, I suggest you learn to chew.” She waited for the girl to start chewing on her own flesh, retching the entire time, before continuing, “If you don’t want me to shove this down there next,” she held up the knife, now covered with gore along with the blood, “you will not mention God here.”

She brought the knife closer to the girl’s face, just below her eye as a warning, “Let me enlighten you on something I know that you do not. God is very real. She also could not give less of a fuck about you or anyone else. She is long gone. She left us behind to rot in this world, and She is never coming back. So, please, do not invoke Her in my sanctuary.”

Prue was sure she sounded delusional, but she knew every word she said was the truth. There was a God who had made angels and told the angels to make everything. Then Her angels rebelled and She fucked off after punishing them for losing the war. That was what her Master and her ally had roughly told her, at least.

“No, God is gone and She won’t save you or anyone.” Prue didn’t think she’d be given a chance to deliver the killing blow so quickly, “The only things we can rely on now are the servants She left behind.”

Fallen angels, demons, gods, whatever you wanted to call them it didn’t matter. They were the only ones left and her master was the greatest of them all. He would be king of the world if Prue had any say in the matter. And she was working toward that goal with the fervent of a lemming running itself off a cliff. It was an apt metaphor.

She pulled her hand away from the woman’s mouth. Immediately, the chewed up lump of meat that used to be a thumb tumbled out of her, bone still intact. An ugly, violent sob began to fill the air as Eliza gave into her hopelessness. It was a lovely sound, but not enough.

“Would you like to know who will answer your prayers for this to end?” Prue twisted the knife between her fingers so her victim could see it, “My god is named Mephistopheles. I answer to him, and only answer to him.” She put the knife against the girl’s hand, ready to take another finger, “I wonder how long it will take for him to answer your prayers.”

The girl started begging for his mercy before Prue could make the next cut into her pinky. Spoiled brats were always the first to crack, as long as it got them out of a tricky situation. Though, her sudden change in who she prayed to did confirm one thing for Prue; she was of little Faith. Not much of a loss.

She held off on ending her pleas too quickly. She wanted to savor the sound of her master’s real name coming off the girl’s lips. It had been so long since she was allowed to hear his name; a quirk of him being infamous. Still, the sound of it was ecstacy to her.

She drank it up, and when she finally had her fill (about when Eliza was two more fingers down and truly starting to believe in the name she called to for aid) she slit the girl’s throat. She was of little use alive. Sure, she had some Faith to give her master, but it was barely a snack. She was more of a liability than anything, subject to ruining her entire operation when whatever thing she believed in next took over.

Plus, she rarely let her victims live long. They had a habit of making her care about them. Not in the sense of ‘love’ but in the purest sense of possession. It was the curse of her master’s gift; pure, unrivaled jealousy. An emotion she didn’t care for. It only clung to her most recent victim though, so Eliza’s death freed her until the next time she used her gift.

Prue stared at the corpse, blood rushing onto the floor. She narrowed her eyes, trying to decide how much bleach she would need for this one. She was careful to keep her hidden room clean, even between killings. She wasn’t a stereotypical murderer. She liked to keep this one place presentable, since it was where she gathered Faith for her master.

She grabbed her radio and called for Caroline (the janitor). She couldn’t be bothered to deal with this worthless woman’s tainted blood. Instead, she would have to think of where to get the next batch of Faith. Thank goodness Selena had been here tonight. As for what she would tell the now follower about her friend… It would be the truth. Her friend’s sins decided her fate. To Prue, her judge and jury her greatest sin was not what she had done to Selena, but what she could not do. She could not be faithful to her master and could not be a useful tool to him. No greater sin existed in this world.


	6. Do It For Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sidney Carpenson is the resident bartender at Cinders. Like everyone that works there, he has made a deal with the demon Mephistopheles. Unlike the others though, he doesn't have the same twisted nature. In fact, he's here more because of Prue than the demon himself. She came in his time of greatest need, and he would follow her master to keep that acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that this arc take place around 2000-2001? Because it does. The original game was set in 1999.

Sidney Carpenson had been employed at Cinders for a little over four months now. Like every employee at the place, he followed and worshipped Theoge. He’d never seen the demon himself, only hearing most things from Prue. Only she knew how to get in contact with the demon whenever she pleased. He remembered there being a trick with saying his name, but he was never able to get ahold of him that way.

He was the club’s resident bartender, which was super illegal in so many ways, not the least of which being that he was only fifteen. Still, a job was a job and Prue insisted on anyone who had been given a gift by the demon to stay at the club. At least she paid in cash so he didn’t have to worry about taxes or anything being traced back to his illegal source of income.

Still, he had to get used to the terrible things he was asked to do. Tonight hadn’t been the first time he was asked to rufie someone, but that didn’t make it any easier. He had felt bad for the woman as she took a sip of her drink, trusting him of all people not to do such a thing to her. Thankfully, Prue was ready to cover up the entire incident.

She took care of everything, including him. There wasn’t a maternal bone in her body, but she was ready to take care of anyone that served the demon. That was why he had agreed to becoming a thrall in the first place.

_ Worship my master and I will make sure you never worry about another thing in your life.  _ That was her promise, and she had yet to break it. He couldn’t actually give less of a damn (no pun intended) about the demon, but Prue’s promise had come to him when he was at his lowest. He probably had some variant of stockholmes syndrome. 

He could still remember the night that brought him here clear as day.

***

“Don’t fucking shit with me.” His father was never one for profanity, but this was apparently the one exception.

“Dear,” his mother tried to interrupt.

“Don’t you dare defend him!” His father’s anger was briefly turned toward his mother and he hated it, but he didn’t move to defend her.

His father turned back to him, “You better have a good explanation for this.” His father threw the magazine he had confiscated at him. It hit him square in the head and fell onto the floor.

Sidney bit his inner lip, unable to come up with a plausible excuse.

“Please, Sid, tell me it isn’t true.” His mother begged him.

He remained silent.

His father grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off his feet, “Answer her, dammit.”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t give her the answer he knew she wanted.

He felt tears starting to prick at the sides of his eyes, “I- I’m, sorry…” It was all he could do to apologize to his parents for his behavior. He should know better, but here he was.

His mother moved to cover her mouth and started to sob. His father’s anger finally boiled over. He dragged Sidney by the collar and pulled him toward the front door, shoving him outside.

Sidney stared at him in disbelief and the door shut in his face. He could hear his mother begging to let him back in, but his father responded by saying that he wouldn’t allow a fag in his house. The word hit Sidney like a bucket of cold ice and his mind went blank.

***

The club was closing up for the night. Sidney had spent the entire night serving people who were older than him, but didn’t question his baby face as long as he gave them booze. He was glad to see the girl he rufied come out unharmed, even if she was a bit out of it. He could only guess that Prue had used her weird vampire powers on her.

He was wiping down the counter when Harris McConnell (he wasn’t sure why the man used his first and last name, but he would respect the choice) came up to him, “I finished making my rounds for the night. You need any help, kid?”

Harris McConnell was a nice guy to everyone he met. He was even nice to Prue, though the two didn’t act very friendly. Apparently that had less to do with her as a person and more to do with her status as a vampire. Sidney didn't really understand it, but it had something to do with being the walking dead and how her kind repulsed his. Still, the man was nice, if not a little rough around the edges.

“Thanks, but I’m actually almost done here.” If Sidney was good at anything, it was cleaning.

“I’m heading home then. I cleaned out my car, so there’s room tonight.”

Sidney could remember the last time he’d seen the man’s car. It was full of odd trinkets that he insisted would spark a violent gang war if he wasn’t careful. The boy really didn’t understand supernaturals very well, but he went along with it to avoid the headache of questioning it.

***

He wandered around in a haze, unsure where to go or what to do with himself. It had been nearly a month since his parents kicked him out and they showed no signs of relenting, no matter how much he begged. He was hungry and cold. For a split moment, he considered standing on a street corner and trying to sell himself as a cute little twink just to get a good bed for the night. He was quick to desperation, but slow to muster up the courage for such a last ditch effort. He felt sick with himself, disgusted by this own cowardice.

He had wandered into a seedy part of town for that very reason, but he couldn’t follow through with it. He wanted to puke. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to die…

Maybe that would be easier. He could find a bridge and jump off or maybe hang himself. He wondered if a bottle of pills would do it, but he was kicked out without any money.

“Are you lost?”

Sidney looked to his side to see a woman staring at him with little emotion on her face.

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She was quick and to the point with him, “Come with me.”

She began to walk off without bothering to make sure he was following. Even so, he felt the deep urge to chase after her (he would learn later that she had used one of her powers that made people more agreeable to her whims). She walked with confidence and grace, even as men catcalled her and leered at her. She didn’t turn her gaze to them even once, never second guessing her purpose in that moment. 

She stopped only when they reached the front entrance of the club Cinders. There was a man at the front, who she went to speak to. He couldn’t explain why, but the man was both enchanting and terrifying at the same time. 

She spoke to him, a small wicked glint sparkling in her dead eyes. The man looked over at Sidney and looked him over once, seeming to peer deep into him. He shook his head and placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, telling her something he couldn’t hear. Her smile didn’t fade, but it did change from wickedness to interest. It was like something inside her changed suddenly.

***

Sidney stared out the window as Harris McConnell drove down the road. He was playing country music on the radio; a genre no one would expect from the man, but one he was fond of. The lights of the city passed by in a haze outside the window.

“Want anything for dinner?” Harris McConnell asked, breaking the near silence.

“Nah. I think I might just pass out once I get inside, honestly. It’s… been a long night.”

The man simply nodded in response and let the silence take over again.

***

The woman came back, a bright pink drink in her hand. She tried to give it to Sidney but he refused, citing his age. She didn’t insist. Instead, she poured the drink on the ground and told him to sit with her. Before he could comply, the man cleared his throat. The woman looked at him and, with a slight sigh of annoyance, changed their location to the parking lot.

She leaned against a wall, her clothing lying against her just enough to show off her stomach with ribs gently poking through. He imagined she’d look like a femme fatale if she had a cigarette, her black hair falling over her eye and her lips in a disinterested pout.

She didn’t look at him as she began to speak, “So, what’s a kid doing out here this late?”

Sidney stayed quiet, not sure if he wanted to tell her the truth.

“You can tell me.” She said, voice like a thick honey he could feel himself drowning in (once again, her power, though he didn’t know that at the time.

“My parents kicked me out…” Technically it was just his dad, but it may as well have also been his mom, given how little she did to actually defend him.

“Tell me the full story.”

He bit his lip, trying to hold back. Something about her compelled him to go one though, “They found some magazines under my bed…”

“I take it that it was porn? So what? Every young boy looks at a girl or two eventually.”

“...it had guys in it…”

She went silent for what felt like an eternity before continuing, “So?”

Her reaction was not what he was expecting. She was so… bored by his admission.

“So… they found out I like guys.”

“So you’re a queer. So what?” 

The word made him wince. She used it so casually, so matter-of-factly that it almost didn’t sound like a slur coming out of her mouth. Still, it was a slur and it did have an effect on him.

She seemed to notice his reaction, “Is that not the correct word these days? I stopped keeping track after a decade or two, so I’m not sure what I’m supposed to call you anymore. Then again, does the word I use matter? The meaning is the same either way.”

That was some twisted logic, but he accepted it.

***

Harris McConnell pulled up to the house, turning off the car. Sidney opened the door on his side and waited for this partner to step out as well. The man stretched as he exited the vehicle, a large yawn escaping his throat. It was nearly 3am and they were both tired.

The two of them went up to the door, the man opening the door with his keys. The two of them entered together.

“You sure you don’t want dinner? I’m gonna be up for a while longer.”

Sidney waved his hand in protest, “No thanks. I just want to go to sleep.”

“Sure, kid. Sleep well.”

***

She had asked him if he had a wish he’d be willing to sell his soul for. For a moment, he thought about having his parents take him back. Then, he thought about turning straight. Neither option made him happy.

Then, he finally thought of something.

“I want to be accepted for being me.”

She looked unamused by his request, “Is that all? No thoughts of power or fame?”

He shook his head, “No. I just want to live a normal life.”

She looked down at the chalice, “I believe we can do that.” A smile crept across her face. It was the same one from earlier and it sent a shiver down his spine. He swore he saw fangs in her mouth, “My name is Prue. I own this establishment and I am looking for more people to join my little family.”

That word caught him off guard for a moment.

“I know you aren’t old enough to work here, but I want to help you. It’s hard for someone as young as you to make it all on your own. I need a new bartender. My current one is starting to freak out the clientele.” 

He shut up completely, unsure how to turn her down. She was making sense. He needed to make money somehow and no one would hire a kid as young as he was. He wouldn’t be able to get a place on his own either and he didn't want to go begging back to his parents.

While he was thinking, Prue threw her arms around his shoulders. She leaned against him, her mouth next to his year so she could whisper to him directly, “Join us. We don’t care what your flaws are or who you want to be. We all have something about us that makes the world think we aren’t good enough for it. We all have something that the people we think we can trust would kill us for.” He detected a mild change in her voice, but he couldn’t figure out why, “Not us though. We will always accept you for who you are, because you have something few in this world do anymore. You have Faith.”

She was disturbing cold. Her embrace was sucking the heat from him, but he didn't leave or try to escape. Her words were messed up and made no sense, but he needed to hear them. He needed someone to accept him for who he was. Sure, she wasn't politically correct with her words, but she also didn’t insult him maliciously.

He let his body go limp, giving into her words, “How do you know we won’t be found out? It would be hard to hide that a fourteen year old is working for you.”

“I’ll worry about that.” She pulled away from him, staring him dead in the eye, “I only need one thing from you. This is my promise to you: worship my master and I will make sure you never worry about another thing in your life; money, purpose, or acceptance.”

He didn’t have it in him to turn her down. He needed her promise in that moment. 

It wasn’t immediate, but he would come around to believing in the power of the demon Prue called her master. It was hard not to after seeing what he could do for her and the extent to which she was willing to go for him.

He was almost envious. Prue went out of her way on a nightly basis for the demon. She had walked in several times, half bloodied and in desperate need of blood to heal herself. She was willing to bring herself to the brink of death time and time again, all for the sake of a demon that clearly didn't appreciate her.

Sure, she wasn’t a good person by any definition, but he imagined she used to be. It was easy to imagine that she used to be a human, just like him; that she could care for other people and valued her own life over the unfeeling will of a demon. Maybe at one point, she even had even been like him. A young girl that the world rejected and in need of a helping hand. He liked to image that’s why she took him in, not just for his Faith, even though that was admittedly more likely.

***

Sidney crashed on his bed, not even bothering to change his clothing. He was impressed that he hadn’t lost his lunch like last time, but that wasn’t saying much given that it made him feel like he was slipping further into the darkness. 

He closed his eyes, giving in to the softness of his sheets and drifting off to sleep. Maybe it was best for now to ignore the degeneration of his morality and give into his basic needs.

***

_ You did well today. I am pleased. _ The voice rang in Prue’s mind, clawing at her skull.

“He’s too simple.” She watched as the young boy walked up to Harris McConnell, asking him to help out as per her suggestion. He needed a place to stay and the man had an extra room. He would never say no if the boy really did need help.

_ Do you know this from personal experience? _

She could only stare at the boy, “He wants nothing but acceptance. It’s virtually a free trade for his Faith. I thought you would like him.”

_ Of course I do, my dear.  _ He went silent after that, leaving Prue alone with her thoughts.

She continued to stare at Sidney, thoughts running through her head about what the boy’s ultimate fate would be. She couldn't help but chuckle. Acceptance was such an ambiguous thing to desire. She could give him that, or she could pretend to, at the very least.

She secretly wondered how long it would be until his Faith went from something pure and innocent into something corrupted and malignant all for the sake of being accepted into her master’s suffocating embrace.


End file.
